


for the grandchildren

by verity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dating, Failwolf, Failwolf Friday, Fluff, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek might not be very good at cuddling, but it's definitely not his fault that Stiles's couch is trying to eat them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for the grandchildren

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HalfFizzbin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfFizzbin/gifts).



> This is the mostly revoltingly adorable thing I have ever written. I don't even know what to do with myself, y'all.

"This isn't very comfortable," Derek said.

They were sitting on the couch in Stiles's living room. Derek had never been in here before, even though he'd been in Stiles's room plenty of times. The living room was small, cozy. Around the TV were clustered Stiles's father's recliner, the messy coffee table, and the couch, which sagged so deeply in the middle that Derek was afraid he wouldn't be able to climb out. Derek's head was in Stiles's lap, or it had been; his descent into the couch maelstrom was slowly but surely tugging it down with the rest of him.

Stiles had _Shaun of the Dead_ streaming from Netflix on the TV. It was paused for the moment, buffering, but neither of them were paying the movie much attention.

"Dude, it's not that hard, we're just watching a movie," Stiles said. "Like people do. People, werewolves, guys, whatever. It's a thing."

"This couch smells like Scott," Derek said, sniffing.

"Rude." Stiles reached over and poked Derek in the ribs, scooted them both down a little into the gaping maw in the middle.

Derek's head was back in Stiles's lap now, sort of, cheek wedged up against the fly of Stiles's jeans. "Your dad's going to come home and find us like this."

"Dad's seen us in much more compromising positions." Like that incident hadn't earned a permanent spot on Derek's nightmare reel. "He'll survive."

"We're going to die in your couch," Derek said.

"I'll save you," Stiles said ominously, right as he attempted to haul Derek up into his lap.

—

First came the months of adrenaline-fueled hookups for which Stiles was a legal adult, thank you very much, as he insisted on reminding Derek constantly, as if that made Derek feel any better. Then there was the time the Sheriff caught them parking. Then, abruptly: they were dating.

"Come on, it'll make Dad feel better," Stiles said, sitting on the hood of the Camaro, pants zipped and law enforcement dispersed with some serious eyebrows and a stern warning. "We can go bowling or something. Just until he calms down and stops making jokes about arresting you."

"I don't think that was a joke," Derek said, "and I hate bowling."

—

They went bowling, ate dinner at the diner by Derek's apartment, did all 18 holes on the mini-golf course. Stiles's senior year was winding down, schoolwork mostly done, and there was nothing too monstrous on the horizon. Everything was… easy. It wasn't a hardship, spending time with Stiles.

Although it was a little strange, dropping him back on his doorstep every night with a kiss. There had been plenty of kissing before, but bruising and fast, not light or teasing. Derek didn't know how to handle Stiles gently. Everything between them had always been tense, or not there at all.

Stiles pulled Derek closer to him. "I don't think we're going to die."

"Your optimism is one of my favorite things about you," Derek said. He was draped across Stiles's lap now in the world's least graceful Pietà. There were cushions on the couch, too, floating on the edges like faithless life preservers.

"That's almost sweet," Stiles said. He looked down at Derek, all warm eyes and dark lashes.

Derek reached up, put one arm around Stiles's neck, and tried to pull one of them—somewhere—for a kiss.

—

"Should I take a photo?" the Sheriff said. "For the grandchildren, I mean."

"Please don't," Stiles said, writhing against the merciless couch frame.

Derek squeezed his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
